


One Night More

by never_wanted_to_dance



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Character Study, M/M, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-09
Updated: 2014-07-09
Packaged: 2018-02-08 05:03:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1927614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/never_wanted_to_dance/pseuds/never_wanted_to_dance
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Enjolras might spend his days focused on the rebellion, but Grantaire waits patiently to be part of his nights. A study of Grantaire alongside the song 'Some Nights' by Fun., which always reminds me of him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One Night More

**Author's Note:**

> Lyrics used here are from the song 'Some Nights' by Fun. and do not belong to me, no copyright infringement is intended. This fic was previously posted on ff.net under the name 'listeningtothestorm', and has been revised and edited before posting here, so there are a few differences throughout to the original version. I'm slowly moving my stories over to AO3 as I prefer the general platform over here.

# One Night More

 

>   
>  Some nights I stay up cashing in my bad luck
> 
> Some nights I call it a draw
> 
> Some nights I wish that my lips could build a castle
> 
> Some nights I wish they'd just fall off
> 
>  
> 
>  

It had been a long and lonely night on a bar stool for Grantaire, one of many useless nights that seemed to creep up on him lately, tempting him into drunken lethargy with simple a lack of anything better to do. Surrounded by fools and idle children and staring at the last dregs of whiskey pooling at the bottom of a dirty glass, debating whether or not it was even worth going home at the end of the night. He'd only be straight back to the ABC in the morning anyway, drawn back by the warm fire and soft chairs that his own cold garret room lacked.

Then, before he could so much as drain the last of his drink and demand another, a ray of light burst in through the door, shining impossibly bright and danced as a lightning bolt dances, across the scuffed and bare floorboards to sit at the bar next to him and order a vin tannat.

The man's voice sung like a cold fountain on a hot summer afternoon and his eyes burned like fire when he smiled.

 

>   
>  This is it boys, this is war - what are we waiting for?
> 
> Why don't we break the rules already?
> 
> I was never one to believe the hype
> 
> Save that for the black and white
> 
> I try twice as hard and i'm half as liked
> 
>  
> 
>  

It was easy enough to sit in the back of the meetings and get quietly drunk most nights. Not many of the boys noticed him unless he wanted them to, and then they never forgot him. He would shout jokes at opportune moments, chime in with a quick-witted comment here and there, but avoid being drawn into any serious discussions if he could help it.

Their politics were shaky and naive and their ambitions optimistic at best, but Enjolras captured them and carried them all along with his grand visions every single time he opened his mouth. The other students followed with their eyes wide open and adoring; Grantaire stumbled along clumsily with the love of a desperate blind man, following his last adored glimpse of light.

Sometimes they tried to stop him from drinking so much as they talked and plotted and planned, and Enjolras would get involved, and he would put down his bottle for the night. But never for too long.

 

>   
>  That's alright,
> 
> I found a martyr in my bed tonight
> 
> Stops my bones from wondering just who I am, who I am, who I am
> 
> Oh, who am I? Mmm... Mmm...
> 
>  
> 
>  

Some nights were better than others. Walking through the glistening streets of Paris after dark, side by side with him, half-listening to his charming voice talking on in its terrible way and half concentrating on sobering enough enough to remember which way his own apartments were this time. Debates that became arguments in the fading candlelight of the dingy cafe, which in turn, later became passionate embraces in the growing dawn the next morning.

These were the nights Grantaire lived for, chasing them from one to the next while never knowing when the next would be. Enjolras was beautiful in a way few men could ever be, and terrible, and often downright terrifying - but he could have torn Grantaire limb from limb and he would not have complained. As long as he was there, blonde and shining and close, framed by broken moonlight and grim determination against the hard sky of a broken city.

It must be nice, Grantaire thought absently on one of the better nights, to believe in anything so much.

 

>   
>  Well some nights I wish that this all would end
> 
> 'Cause I could use some friends for a change
> 
> And some nights I'm scared you'll forget me again
> 
> Some nights I always win, I always win...
> 
>  
> 
>  

Other nights were not so good. The Friends of the ABC tolerated his cynical pretense as long as he watched his mouth when talking about their politics, but sometimes a glass of wine too many and the words tumbled out of his mouth no matter no hard he tried. Bitterness, long nursed deep within his soul, reared its ugly head in the presence of so much optimism, his sharp outbursts and sarcastic laughter dampening the spirits of the students on many an occasion.

But never Enjolras. No matter how bitter his comments or despondent his view, his Apollo never wavered. No, it was clear that he would always be a very obvious second to the convictions of the revolution in their leaders eyes, and that would never be an easy idea to swallow. Far easier to keep swallowing the cheap wine and soured spirits and waiting, always waiting, to become important to someone again.

 

>   
>  But I still wake up, I still see your ghost
> 
> Oh Lord, I'm still not sure what I stand for, oh
> 
> What do I stand for? What do I stand for?
> 
> Most nights, I don't know... (oh, come on)
> 
>  
> 
>  

Enjolras could raise an army with his words alone. He would have moved the very dirt they stood on to rebel alongside them if he had thought it would have made any difference, so it was inevitable that he would begin to have an effect on his favourite cynic's beliefs eventually. Sometimes it seemed as if Grantaire was incapable of believing anything at all, other times it was as if he believed too much and too many things that made no sense at all. But when Enjolras cornered him at the end of one night in the empty cafe and demanded to know why, why he was willing to give his life for a cause he had so little faith in, what it was that he stood for, what he believed in, the answer came to his lips naturally and easily without a second thought.

He believed in Enjolras.

The answer didn't stay on his lips for very long after that.

 

>   
>  Man, you wouldn't believe the most amazing things
> 
> That can come from some terrible lies, ah...
> 
>  
> 
>  

Nothing could have made him truly support the students cause, not even Enjolras' powerful words. He had seen too much of life already, and the futility of hope, to ever place his faith in a simple cause or concept again. Placing it firmly in the hands of a man, that was the best option. Letting them all believe he was with them as a brother and a friend, to die for freedom, justice and truth.

But it wasn't all a lie. Not really. The long hot nights spent tangled in cheap sheets, clinging on to each others opposites and soaking up each other's desperation, the balmy summer days spent drinking, shouting and laughing while there was still time left in the world to drink and shout and laugh, those were not lies. Those are the things Grantaire thinks he would be happy to die for.

 

>   
>  The other night you wouldn't believe
> 
> The dream I just had about you and me
> 
>  
> 
>  

The night before the attack he dreams he is a living shadow, dragged down into dingy corners by his own hatred of the world and fear of the sun. But shadows cannot exist without the light which casts them, and they must follow them around in order to continue existing. When the light is extinguished, or becomes so bright it eclipses all in its path, the shadows disappear, and the thought haunts him strangely afterwards.

Yes, Grantaire realised. It could never have been any other way. So when the time comes to take Enjolras' hand in his one last time and leave the bright day behind, to step forward into the permanent darkness together, he does not hesitate. He steps forward and makes his lover, his friend, his leader and his light, smile as they die.

They are not afraid of the dark.


End file.
